


Cruelty and Kindness

by Windian



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windian/pseuds/Windian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And normally Alisha doesn’t drink. It’s not ladylike. Nor does downing a foaming tankard of dragonslayer befit the honour of a knight, either. But neither did the fight they had— no lady, nor no knight would be seen dead involved in the scratching and hair-pulling (and crying, she thinks with embarrassment) she and Rose partook in earlier. And she’s still so mad at Rose, that when she bets her the pretty princess of Hyland wouldn’t dare slay the dragonslayer, Alisha tosses aside her ladyship, her knighthood, and downs the whole thing. Just to spite her. "</p><p>The night after their fight, complicated feelings bubble up to the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruelty and Kindness

Even in retrospect Alisha isn't terribly sure how what happened between her and Rose, happened.

They only meant to stay in Lastonbell for dinner, but somehow one bottle of wine became into two, and then that turned into Rose double-daring her to try Lastonbell's strongest ale, "dragonslayer." And normally Alisha doesn’t drink. It’s not ladylike. Nor does downing a foaming tankard of dragonslayer befit the honour of a knight, either. But neither did the fight they had— no lady, nor no knight would be seen dead involved in the scratching and hair-pulling (and crying, she thinks with embarrassment) she and Rose partook in earlier. And she’s still so _mad_ at Rose, that when she bets her the pretty princess of Hyland wouldn’t dare slay the dragonslayer, Alisha tosses aside her ladyship, her knighthood, and downs the whole thing. Just to spite her. 

And Lailah becomes rather giggly, her puns getting rather more incoherent, and Edna's sarcasm becomes crudeness, the words that come from that sweet looking face shocking as she tells some story about "-this seraph I knew five hundred years back, or maybe six hundred. I don't know. You should have seen the tattoo he had on his—"

It's enough to make this knight, or lady, or whatever Alisha is tonight blush hard enough turn her ears pink.

Of course Edna teases the hell out of her for it. "Bet the princess has never even been kissed. Or if she has, she said sorry after. 'My apologies, I hope I did not offend your lips-'"

And Alisha's ears turn even redder, because she doesn't know what to say and _of course_ she's never been kissed. She's never even really ever allowed herself to think of her, Alisha Diphda, kissing.

And she looks across the table, simply for something else to look at, and finds Rose. She's drunk more than any of them but apart from a brightness in her eyes she's quite solid in her seat. Her hands are up behind her head and her boots up on the table, and Alisha thinks how envious she is of Rose. How confident she always looks, as though she never doubts herself. There's none of her own stiffness, the awful reserved formality that clamps down her jaw and holds her own feelings hostage. Rose smiles easily and laughs easily and she looks like…

She looks like a girl who actually likes herself.

Alisha doesn't realise she's staring until Rose looks back at her, and the way their eyes clash into contact feels like bumping into a stranger on a dark landing. And there's _something_ —

"Please, Edna, don't be mean," Lailah scolds her fellow seraph. Edna pouts.

"But it's so easy."

Alisha sets her eyes downcast. Unsurprisingly, the alcohol has gone right to her head. She wants to lie down and sleep. Or maybe cry. But she's probably cried enough today. She just wants to forget everything.

The next thing she knows her head is down against the pitted woodgrain of the table and Rose is shaking her awake.

"C'mon,! she says. "We're going back to our room."

Rose has to put her arm under hers and support her as she stumbles back to their lodging. She's unsure of what time it is, how long she's been out, only vaguely registering that their friends have gone.

"Edna and Lailah?" she asks.

"They said they were tired," Rose says. By which she means, the seraphs have lodged themselves back snugly in Rose's soul.

"I always thought that was so strange. Back when I saw Lailah and Mikleo do it with Sorey the first time, in Ladylake..." she says. She's rambling.

But they can't talk about Sorey.

"C'mon," Rose says. "It's been a long day."

She expects Rose to dump her unceremoniously on her bed, but Rose is strangely gentle with her as she sits her down, supporting her when she stumbles.

"Sorry," Rose says. "Probably shouldn't have got you to drink so much. Uh… let me guess. You've never drunk before, right?"

Alisha shakes her head. It's strangely dizzying. "It's not like me," she says.

"I don't know about that. It's pretty cool to see you let your hair down a bit. I was impressed when you slayed the dragonslayer! I mean, you chugged that whole thing down in one, girl!"

The bed dips beside her as Rose sits, and Alisha can feel the tightness of the frown at her brow. She doesn't understand. How Rose— the same Rose who mock-bowed and spat _your Highness_ at her can be so gentle with her now. Doesn't understand this kind-hearted killer who steadies her when she stumbles.

"Ur, you're not going to barf, are you? You've got a kinda weird look on your face," Rose says, pulling back slightly. "I'll speak to the innkeep and get a bucket—"

The tension in the bed springs back as Rose rises, but Alisha reaches, hand closing around Rose's wrist.

"Please," she says.

What she's asking, even she's not entirely sure.

"I'm fine," she says.

Rose hesitates, but then she sinks back down beside Alisha.

What she wants, she's never really known.

"Did I … really seem cool back there?" she asks.

Rose laughs, all the way down from her belly. "You really are drunk, Alisha."

Somehow, it's unbearable. "Please!" she implores. "Don't laugh at me, Rose."

Rose shakes her head at her. "Even drunk, you're so friggen serious all the time."

"I… I apologise."

"Geez. You don't need to say sorry, either." Rose sighs an exasperated sigh, kicking off her boots and pulling her feet up to her. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

"I don't know, either," Alisha admits.

"You and me both, then." Rose lassos her arms around her knees. Sits in the little flickering light of the lamp with Alisha, unspeaking.

"I wish I was more like you, Rose." In the shadow of the tiny lamp, it's strangely easy to be honest. The darkness laps at her self-imposed shackles of reservation. Eases them.

(the copious amounts of alcohol she's imbibed help, too.)

"Oh, God. What have I created? You're an emotional drunk, aren't you? Are we gonna have to hug this thing out?" There's a small embarrassed quirk sitting at the corner of Rose's mouth. She looks vaguely put-off. Distant.

"I mean it, Rose," Alisha says, tone rising sharp with the force of her conviction. She wants to grasp the material of Rose's sleeves, show her she means what she says. She wants—

The words bubbling up on her tongue evaporate as Rose begins to unbutton the fancy, frilly thing she forced her into that afternoon, poking her tongue out in concentration as she works at the fiddly buttons.

"Rose?" Alisha squeaks.

"What? You're so drunk you're blubbering about how you admire me, even though I've done nothing today but be cruel to you. There's no way you're getting these buttons undone on your own."

Something hot and potent wells up in Alisha's chest as Rose's nimble fingers work at the buttons. "I don't think you're cruel," she says, in a rush, like a confession.

(even though she _had_ thought that. Yet Rose isn't being cruel now, as she works at the buttons Alisha cannot focus on anything other than Rose's fingers and how gentle she's being with her, and—)

—and the ghost of Edna's voice, murmuring against the shell of her ear: _Bet the princess has never even been kissed._

Alisha's never known before what she's wanted, but she knows what she wants now, and she grasps the front of Rose's scarf and drags this kind, awful, wonderful girl to her and mashes her mouth against hers. And Rose is so surprised her mouth parts and Alisha pushes herself further in, nails digging into the folds of her scarf, grasping, clutching, wishing she could pass through her feeble flesh and clamber _into_ her.

When she collapses back, faced by Rose's shock as cold and impartial as a rocky cliff-face, Alisha feels as though she's been riven in two.

"I'm— I'm so, so, sor—" Her eyes burn and tears threaten, the impartial rock of Rose's expression splits.

"No," she says. "Don't you dare apologise, Alisha."

"But I shouldn't have—"

"No," Rose says again. Firm hands grip her by her arms, and she's digging in tightly now, as hard as she'd grasped her. "Listen to me. Alisha." Staring at the rumpled bedsheets in shame, the force in the way Rose says her names sends her stumbling into eye contact.

God. The way she stares at her sends tingles piercing down her body and straight to her spine.

"There was a reason why I was angry at you before," Rose says. "You always try so damn hard to be somebody else. To be a perfect knight, or the perfect damn princess of Hyland. And you hurt yourself, doing it. I don't think Sorey ever really noticed, but it made me so pissed off. I wondered if I was ever going to meet the real you."

"Rose…"

"I'm not done with you, yet." There's a small trace of a smirk on Rose's lips. "I see who you are, now."

This time, Rose kisses her. She kisses her with enough ardour to leave them both reeling. And Alisha thinks, vaguely, _so this is what kissing is like,_ before she cannot think at all. Except about how Rose's hands tangle in her hair and the tight way she holds her and how she wants her to hold her tighter and how soft, how hot her lips are.

Later, when sleep claims them, and the hands that grasped her so tightly embrace her and Rose's breath is sweet against her neck, Alisha has one last conscious thought.

That even if she hasn't completely figured out who she is yet, or Rose, either, she knows one thing.

As much as she drives her crazy, she adores this girl.

**Author's Note:**

> what friggen dorks.
> 
> I was so aggrieved I couldn't find a single rose/Alisha fic I wrote this out of spite. let me know what you thought.


End file.
